


Beneath a Blue Umbrella Sky

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: 5 Things, Coney Island, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's been to Coney Island before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath a Blue Umbrella Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Summer Wind."

[one]

Steve's been to Coney Island before. His mother took him once, before she was too busy (weary) with work to spend the time, let alone the money. He remembers the heat of the sand against the soles of his feet, the sharp-sweet taste of lemon ice, the curl of her fingers, warm and sure, around his, and the sound of her laughter as the waves rushed over their feet, water lapping at their ankles and then racing away.

He's still not sure if it really happened the way he remembers it, but his voice is high and quick with excitement as he tells Bucky about it, in between wheezes when he takes too many stairs too quickly.

They have to climb two flights of steps to get to the platform, and Steve says, "You can go ahead with the others if you want."

Bucky makes a face like he smells something bad. "Why would I wanna do that?"

The other boys brush past them with muttered insults, but nobody wants to take the chance of being sent back to the home as punishment, or to end up with a black eye from Bucky's fists.

He and Bucky are last up on the platform; the nuns count heads and make sure they all buddy up when the train pulls in. Steve stays with Bucky, of course.

Steve's always liked riding the el, and the ride goes quickly with Bucky to talk to.

Then they're all tumbling out of the subway car and down the stairs, shouts echoing through the station even as the nuns try to impose some sense of decorum.

Steve gets caught up in the rush, and finds himself out of breath when they arrive at the boardwalk, but then he can see the ocean, shimmering like diamonds in the sun, and he grabs Bucky's arm.

"See?" he says. "D'you see it?"

"I see it, Steve," Bucky answers. "Be kinda hard to miss it, seeing as how it goes all the way to the horizon."

Steve sticks his tongue out, and then they scramble down to the sand with the rest of the boys, flinging off their shirts and shucking their shoes in a mad quest to get into the water, as if they're afraid it'll disappear before they get a swim in.

The water is cold and rough and Steve gets knocked over a few times, ends up with sand in his shorts and his ears, but it's okay because Bucky's jumping in the waves next to him, and together, they can even beat the ocean.

*

[two]

Steve adds his fifty cents to Bucky's stash of money, and after train fare (he pockets two nickels to make sure they can get home), they have enough to get two hot dogs, an order of fries, and a lemonade from Nathan's.

"This is the best hot dog ever," Steve says.

"Of course it is, dummy," Bucky says. Steve waits, but Bucky doesn't explain. He just grins, the corners of his mouth shiny with grease and salt and mustard. "We still have enough money to go on some rides, if you want," he says after they're done eating and they've drunk even the melted ice out of the bottom of the lemonade.

"Yeah?"

Bucky lays their cash--or in this case, change--on the table. "Yeah. Let's go on the Cyclone."

Steve squints up at the roller coaster, which towers above everything in the area. "I dunno."

Bucky's face goes sly. "Come on, Steve. I dare ya."

"Bucky!"

"I double-dog dare ya."

Steve knows there's no way he's getting out of that.

As miserable as he is afterwards--all that good food and all that money, wasted--a small part of him feels like Bucky got what he deserved. Then he feels terrible, because Bucky's the one who rubbed his back while he puked, and Bucky's the one who got him a glass of water and a stick of gum to take the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

"It's all right," Bucky says, bumping Steve's shoulder with his own. "It was a stupid ride anyway."

*

[three]

Steve can already feel his skin burning beneath the hot summer sun, even this late in the day, but he doesn't complain when Bucky pays the entrance fee at the amusement park. Bucky always has money, and Steve doesn't ask anymore where it comes from.

They don't run through the park like they did when they were eight or even twelve. As dignified young men of sixteen, they saunter and prowl and ogle the pretty girls. Or Bucky does. Steve still looks like he's twelve.

Steve wants to stop at the booths touting prizes to anyone who can knock over a pyramid of bottles or land a ring around a milk bottle, but Bucky snorts and shakes his head. "They're all fixed, Steve."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. Leave 'em for the rubes and the tourists."

"Someone should report them."

"Who are you gonna report 'em to?" Bucky nudges him gently. "Save some of that righteous indignation for when you see how much a lemon ice costs these days."

Steve laughs and lets it drop.

They share a lemon ice and a coke in lieu of a more substantial dinner; the sugar buzzes in Steve's veins, making him dizzy. Or maybe it's heatstroke, or the smell of Bucky's cologne. He can't tell. Bucky herds him into a car on the Ferris wheel, and his finicky stomach acts up; every time Bucky's arm brushes against his, he feels like he's got frogs jumping around in there. He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap to keep from fidgeting, and concentrates on not throwing up

"Hey," Bucky says, when they reach the top. He tips Steve's chin up and Steve thinks his heart is going to burst right out of his chest. "Look." The sun has started setting; the blue sky is shot through with pink and orange, and Steve's fingers twitch for his pastels, for the ability to capture it, along with this feeling that's making it hard for him to breathe but which has nothing to do with his asthma and everything to do with the way Bucky's smile lights up his face, the way Bucky's touch lights up Steve's nerves.

What he says is, "That's swell, Bucky." His voice sounds a little rough, but he doesn't think Bucky notices.

"It sure is, Steve." Bucky gives him a wide, happy grin. "It sure is."

*

[four]

"Come on," Bucky says. "Let's go to Nathan's for dinner."

It's not really warm enough yet, but Steve doesn't argue. It's Bucky's last day as a civilian. Steve'll do whatever Bucky wants. They don't talk about it, though. They talk about everything else instead. The Dodgers' chances at the pennant, Rita Hayworth's latest picture, whether Katie McGinty is really going out with Nick Featherstone, "because I swear, I saw her kissing Margie McNee," Bucky says with a grin and a sly, up from under his lashes look that makes Steve blush even more than the thought of Katie and Margie kissing.

"Well," he says, and he has to clear his throat before he continues, "wouldn't you rather kiss Margie McNee than Nick Featherstone?"

"Sure," Bucky answers, and the edges of his grin go sharp, "unless Nick shaved off that awful mustache. That monstrosity looks like it's eating his face."

Steve laughs and the weird tension is broken. Bucky's good at doing that, deflecting, protecting him from things that are going to get him in trouble before he even knows he's in danger. He's not sure what he's going to do without Bucky around, which means he's going to have to try even harder to get into the Army.

The sky is overcast and the water is gray and rough when they get to the boardwalk. It looks like it stretches forever, but England's on the far side, and the European theatre beyond that. Steve aches with the need to be over there, to be doing something, but today's not about him, so he bites his lip and swallows down everything he wants to say.

The amusement park's not open yet--summer's still a few weeks away--but Nathan's is always open, and for once Steve has some extra money of his own.

"My treat," he says when Bucky goes to pull out his wallet.

Bucky laughs and winks at the girl behind the counter, who blushes. "I should've ordered more."

The meal is like a thousand others they've shared over the years, except that Steve can't help thinking that it might be the last one, that once Bucky leaves for basic, he'll never see him again. And that makes his chest hurt more than any asthma attack or case of pneumonia ever has.

They don't sit at the tables this time; they eat and walk. The wind whips through Steve's jacket and he shivers. Bucky steps closer, as if trying to shelter him from the breeze.

The days are getting longer, early spring twilight lingering, and Steve watches Bucky's face in the half-light, wishing he had some charcoals to capture the way his emotions flash over his features like light over water. He pulls a pencil out of his pocket, sketches absently on one of the leftover napkins--a quick outline of Bucky's face in profile, the boardwalk and the ocean beyond it, all curling lines smudged to mimic movement.

"Sign it," Bucky says, so he does with a flourish, and then Bucky tucks it into his pocket. "A Steve Rogers original. Be worth a million bucks someday, just you watch."

"Bucky--"

"You stay out of trouble when I'm gone, Steve, you hear? Don't wanna come back and have to bail you out of the slammer for brawling."

Steve forces out a laugh. "Don't win the war before I join you."

"You know me," Bucky says, slinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze, "the Nazis won't know what hit 'em."

Steve tips his head up. "Bucky--" He forgets what he wants to say when Bucky stares down into his eyes. He swallows hard and licks his lips. "Be careful, okay."

"Always." Bucky moves away and Steve shivers again, though there isn't any wind this time.

Steve expects Bucky to stay on the train heading into the city for one last night of drinking and dancing, but he gets off with Steve, walks him home to the apartment they share.

Steve waits until they're inside, away from prying eyes and interruptions to try again. "Bucky, I--" His words are cut off by Bucky's mouth, warm and forceful against his. Bucky's stubble scrapes against his skin and this time when Steve shivers, it's because of heat rushing through him.

It's over before he can do anything. Bucky steps away and smiles, his lips red and wet. Steve wants to bite them, and then he's embarrassed at wanting to.

Bucky brushes the corner of Steve's mouth with his thumb. "It's okay, Steve. It's all going to work out all right. I promise. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

He never has, but this time, Steve doesn't believe him.

*

[five]

It takes him a few days longer than he'd like, but Steve finally slips away from Coulson and Fury and the SHIELD agents they have watching him. He still doesn't know much about this new world, this future he's woken up in, but he figures he's in New York, and he knows the city like the back of his hand. It's changed--Times Square looks like something out of a comic book--but it can't have changed that much. The fact that it's changed is the one thing that always stays the same; even as kids they'd learned to navigate the changes with aplomb.

"Two twenty-five to ride the subway?" he mutters in consternation, handing over a five to the token booth clerk. He feels bad about using the money, but Coulson mentioned that the army owes him some back pay when he handed Steve the wallet full of cash. Instead of a handful of tokens, though, she gives him a blue and yellow card.

It takes him a couple of swipes to get it right, but then he's through the turnstile and down the stairs, just as the D train to Stillwell Avenue pulls in. According to the map in his back pocket, that's his ride. He steps out of the way to let the departing passengers off, and then takes a seat. The car is full of young mothers with young children, a few teenagers, and one or two people in business suits. The clothes are different, and the subway is air conditioned and doesn't rattle as loudly as it does in his memory, but the people seem, beneath their modern trappings, to be the same.

When the train rises up out of the tunnel, level with the second stories of houses on either side of the tracks, he gets up out of his seat, goes to stand by the door so he can look out the window. He tries to find familiar landmarks, but they're few and far between.

The train pulls into the final stop and Steve hesitates. He could turn right around and go back into the city--it's tempting--but the pull of the past is too strong.

The neighborhood looks old and worn, though there's a new stadium where Steeplechase Park used to be--Steve's still in shock that the Dodgers and Giants both have apparently moved to California--but the Ferris wheel and the Cyclone still tower over everything, and the parachute jump stands like a lonely sentinel, watching the rest of the world pass it by.

Nathan's is still there, though now its menu is far more extensive and it doesn't look like a stiff wind will blow it over. He buys a hot dog and tries not to wince at the price.

He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. The taste is familiar but different, much like everything else now. Still, he finishes it in three bites and throws the paper it was wrapped in away. He's still not used to how much more he can eat--how much more he _needs_ to eat--to fuel his enhanced body.

The boardwalk is still the same, and the ocean beyond it. He makes his way toward it, stepping carefully on the faded wood. The wood railing gives a little under the weight of his elbows when he leans on it. The ocean stretches out to the horizon, as far as the eye can see. The same as it ever was. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend the warmth of the sun is the heat of Bucky's body beside him. He can pretend that nothing's changed at all.

end

~*~


End file.
